Passport To Murder
by Thecattygrl
Summary: When Magnus Densen holds a massive party, you can be sure it's going to be quite an event. What no one expected, however, was for Alfred Jones to find his body in the cellar - Dead (Hetalia Clue!AU. Human names used).
1. Chapter 1

A board sat spread out on a desk, awaiting players to come along and play. A slender hand collected the figures from the box which had been set aside and set them in their respective squares.

A knock sounded at the door and the figure looked up. A man poked his head into the room and they made eye contact. He held an apple in one hand which had been bitten into, already.

"Boss," he said, holding the door handle with one hand, "The guests are arriving. Mister Densen has asked all guests report to the front hall for an announcement."

"Excellent," the man smiled, picking up a few dice from the box and rolling them across the board, "I'll be right there in a moment, Gail."

"Alright," the lackey shrugged, turning to go. The man turned back to his board and observed the dice.

Snake eyes.

* * *

"It was sure brave of Magnus to host all these people, huh?" Alfred Jones asked, sliding up to stand next to an old English friend of his, Arthur Kirkland. He wore an extravagant red suit accented with gold and black. A matching fedora sat on his head and a golden pocket watch chain hung out of his pocket. There was no wondering if he was the most attention drawing character in the room. He was an American opportunist looking for just that in the European countries. So far, he'd made quite a small fortune in doing so.

"I suppose," Arthur grunted in response. In stark contrast to Alfred's outfit, Arthur wore a simple blue suit and a white hat sat atop his head. Arthur came from old money and was a bit arrogant because of it, but also held all the mannerisms of a true Englishman and was nothing short of a king when it came to passive aggression, although he was known to raise his voice if pushed beyond reason or forced to work with idiots.

"Surely he invited everyone he knew," Alfred chuckled, watching the crowded room shuffle as the many guests walked around greeting one another. Some were old friends or long time allies, but most were more prone to glare at nemeses' across the room or exchange quiet snarky conversations with rivals.

In truth, they all knew why most of them were there. Mister Magnus Densen was rather wealthy and he had no children of his own. Each person in the room was searching for at least a small percentage of that immense fortune. Alfred could not bring himself to admit otherwise - Or, at least in his own mind. It would not do well to let the man know that, himself.

All of a sudden, the loud chatter seemed to quiet down and Alfred turned his gaze up to the balcony over the stairs, where Magnus stood, leaning over the railing with a smug look painted on his face. He wore a simple black suit, as did the man standing to his right; who was his butler, Berwald Oxenstierna. His house hand, Tino Väinämöinen, wore white.

The man to his left was his brother, Lukas Bondevik, dressed in a maroon. Lukas was a highly successful psychic and dealt with magic and the spirit world, although getting him to give a reading with a smile was nearly impossible. Magnus' nephew, Erik Steilsson, was also there, wearing a grey suit. As was common with the family, they all seemed to be a little off their rockers.

"Guests!" Magnus called, spreading his arms out, "I thank you all for attending this little get together I have prepared! I would like to make a few things clear before we begin."

"One, there is a small house to the south side of the property. This is where my staff resides and it is asked that you do not cause them too much damage," Magnus explained, "Two, a study on the third floor is my personal private study and I ask - No, insist - that you stay out of there. And finally, this is a party. If you all aren't totally drunk by the time it's over, you're doing it wrong!" A loud cheer of agreement spread across the room and the loud chatter started back up, drowning out any further interruptions.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred's eyes roamed the room until they landed on a figure a few yards away. He wore a long coat and his face was hidden behind a dark hat and further obscured by a cloud of smoke coming from his cigar. Hovering around him like satellites were seven men, all of whom appeared to quite obviously be underlings, "You see those guys over there?"

"What?" Arthur questioned, turning to look where Alfred was referring to, "Oh, you mean those over there with Aurelio Powers?"

"Is that the one with the cigar?" Alfred asked, to which Arthur nodded, "Who is he, anyways?"

"Nobody is quite sure," Arthur answered, "Though most believe he has something of an line of connections. The guy to go to if you need some favours, but I wouldn't recommend it if you still have other options. Paying him back can be nothing short of a bitch. Nobody can prove he's murdered anyone, but I would believe it if he had. If nothing else, he's got a massive god complex."

"You think he knows Magnus?" Alfred asked.

"Oh, very well," Arthur confirmed, "They use the other as a sort of trump card if necessary. Very close, those two. Will probably receive his entire fortune when the man dies. It's a wonder Magnus hasn't kicked the bucket, yet - What with all the attempts on his life."

"I don't know about you," Alfred smirked, "But if I was absolutely certain that fortune was mine, I'd probably murder Magnus, myself."

"That's not something you should go around bragging about, Alfred," Arthur warned.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't."

"What are we talking about over here?" a man approached them. He wore a white shirt with ruffles and black, slick pants that hugged his legs. A lavender cap was hooked around his shoulders and matched the cuffs on his shirt.

"Francis," Arthur growled, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"It is a pleasure to see you as well, Mon Cher," Francis winked, his voice laced with a pleasant french accent, "Alfred! How are you, my boy? What are you working on now?"

"Great to see you, too, Francis," Alfred saluted him, casually, with two fingers, "I'm actually working with automobiles, at the moment! You wouldn't believe the money to be found in those things, not to mention the convenience. I tell you, give it a decade and everyone will want one!"

"Sure thing," Francis chuckled, "Tell me, is your brother here? Poor lad is probably all but invisible in this party. I wonder if he even knows anyone."

"Mattie should be around," Alfred said, gesturing towards the crowd, "I swear, it took me quite some time to convince him to wear the suit I got him, but it looks almost as great as this one. I almost bought one for myself."

"Oh? What's it like?" Francis inquired.

"Kind of a plum colour?" Alfred offered, "It's got a bow tie, though. I think his glasses make him look a bit like some kind of professor, but he thinks I was just being irritable when I told him so."

"If you ladies don't mind," Arthur interjected, "Some of us would like to talk about something a little more interesting."

"Perhaps we could talk about your culinary skills," Francis teased, "I think that last batch of scones you made was almost a quarter as good as my baking."

"Oh, get bent, frog," Arthur hissed, turning to glare at the frenchman.

"Gladly," Francis cooed, "Where is your mistress? She'd be much happier with me, anyways."

"You know damn well I don't have one," Arthur stated, "But if I did, she sure as hell wouldn't look your way."

"I had no idea you were interested in the blind, Arthur," Francis replied, "Though, they must have to be to think you're a gentleman worth settling down with."

"I'm just gonna go and see if I can locate our host," Alfred took a step away from the bickering men.

"Alfred. Please. Stay," Francis said.

"I would, but don'tcha know I really came here with a purpose in mind, tonight," Alfred shrugged, "You two have fun." With that, he turned and escaped as fast as he could, lest they try and stop him, again. They were too caught up in their argument to bother following him, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Mister Jones!" A voice called, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to see a man waving at him and distancing himself from a man wearing an orange coloured outfit that Alfred knew was Yao Wang.

"Kiku," Alfred returned the wave, allowing the man to catch up with him. He was wearing a light grey suit with accents of gold to complement it. Both men had been friends for a time and business partners before that. Although Alfred had since moved in a different direction with his endeavours, they both turned to one another for advice or aid on occasion, "That was your cousin you were just with, right?"

"Yeah," Kiku glanced back over his shoulder, "Yao was telling me about how Mister Densen has a display of trophies over there. Some of them look rather interesting."

"Really?"

"Mhmm," Kiku nodded, "He sounded pretty jealous. I'm pretty sure he's been competing with our host for quite a fews years in the Cricket tournaments and always seems to come second."

"Sports are a rather intense subject," Alfred stated, "I follow football, myself, but I'd be pretty bitter after losing that many times, too."

"Yes, well," Kiku replied, "Perhaps if he focused a little more on practicing and a little less micromanaging me, then he'd actually be good at the damn sport."

"Haha!" Alfred laughed, slapping him on the back, "You never fail to make me crack up, Kiku."

"Mister Honda!" someone called, interrupting them. A man came up in a green military uniform, only offering Alfred a brief moment of recognition before turning to the man in question, "Are you ready for the transaction tonight?"

"I am," Kiku nodded.

"Woah, transaction?" Alfred interjected, "That sounds a little sketchy, Kiku."

"I don't think it's any of your concern," the man stated.

"I'm sorry," Alfred turned to him, smiling condescendingly, "I don't believe we've met."

"Oh. My apologies," Kiku stepped between the two of them, "Alfred, this is my acquaintance, General Ludwig Beilschmidt. Ludwig, this is an old business partner and long time friend, Alfred Jones. He's from America."

"Ludwig, huh?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Same," Ludwig returned, coldly, "Anyways, tonight is the ideal opportunity for what we have planned. I ask you to be on time for it."

"Are you Italian brothers here, tonight?" Kiku inquired.

"Over there," Ludwig pointed off to the left where two men stood. One wore brown while the other was in a silver outfit. They spoke easily with a mass of woman, making all of their dates rather irritated.

"Look like mafia members," Alfred muttered.

"Alfred. You can't say things like that," Kiku turned an unamused eye on him.

"Hey. I'm American. It gives me a right of passage to say whatever the hell I want," Alfred smirked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Perhaps, but you don't have to be a typical arse simply because you are from the colonies," Kiku stated.

"Oh ho. Who's the one being prejudice, now?" Alfred chuckled, smacking him on the back, "Just kidding. I've actually got somewhere to be, so you go ahead and talk to your suspicious friends. I'll catch up with you, later."

"Wait! You could come and meet them," Kiku offered, "Feliciano and Lovino Vargas are a bit unusual, but friendly enough. You might get along with them."

"Next time," Alfred step away, offering one last glance over his shoulder, "You can tell me all about them later." He left before either could object and spotted Magnus across the room, talking with a young couple, holding a drink in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. He made his way across the room, dodging bodies with ease and was almost there when someone appeared before him out of nowhere and he ran into them.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Miss," Alfred offers his hand to help her up. She wore a yellow dress that billowed around her figure with ease and a bright smile on her face.

"Oh! It's quite alright," she giggled, accepting his offer and regaining her footing, "My name is Elizabeta, by the way. Elizabeta Héderváry."

"Alfred Jones," he removed his hat and bowed a bit, "It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Same," she agreed, "Are you a friend of Mister Densen's, then?"

"Oh, certainly," Alfred nodded, "I'm an opportunist, you see. I have crossed paths with him time and again."

"Ah," she smiled, "That's very interesting."

"What about you?" he wondered.

"Well, my parents passed away a few years ago, leaving me their entire inheritance," she explained, "And he is one of many suitors. Not my favourite, but certainly not as persistent as some of them. In truth, I plan to stay unmarried, but when they don't know that they can be rather generous."

"Haha," Alfred nodded, "You and me, both. No partner to tie us down, yeah? I don't think I'd be able to raise a family very well, anyways."

"Oh, don't be silly," Elizabeta rolled her eyes, taking his hand, "You'd be fine. Let's not talk about possibilities, though. Come on. You look like you could use some gossip." He grabbed his hat as she dragged him off, pulling him farther from their host and farther from his objective.


	2. Chapter 2

"That man right there in the white," Elizabeta directed Alfred's attention across the room.

"Oh," he growled, narrowing his eyes at the man, "I know him. That's Ivan Braginsky. He's a stock owner of a lot of companies. Has nearly run me out of- Wait a second. Is he holding a lead pipe?"

"Um. Yeah. I think he is," Elizabeta nodded, "I think he's recently taken to carrying it around to push around some of many CEOs. Poor Eduard can't afford to do anything Mister Braginsky doesn't want. He's the timid blonde with the glasses right there."

"I see him."

"If you ask me, he needs that lead pipe to fend off his sister," Elizabeta laughed, "Speaking of whom, there goes Natalia, now. The one in the kind of Navy dress. You see her?"

"Oh geez," Alfred cringed slightly as Natalia came up behind Ivan and scared the ever loving hell out of him, "She looks even more terrifying than her brother."

"Tell me about it," she nodded, turning his attention to two men wearing suits in different shades of blue, "Now, over there on the far wall is those two men glaring daggers at you? That's Roderich and Gilbert. They are rather active suitors of mine."

"Oh man," Alfred held his hand in front of his face to mask a snort, "If looks could kill..."

"Oh, I'd watch your back," Elizabeta nudged his shoulder, "Hang out with me too long and they might just use more than looks. I swear, Magnus only invited them here to show them up, tonight."

"Feliks!" someone ran past them, drawing all the attention to himself. He ran right up to a man standing with a gathering of two or three other people. They came to realise the man was actually their host and he held a length of rope in one hand, "Did you release a pony in my living room!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the man smirked. He was dressed in a magenta coloured suit, a wine of glass in his hand. His nails were cared for with the upmost precision and Alfred could swear that this man put more into his appearance than even Francis did.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" Magnus hissed, his usual easy going nature not quite as evident as it usually was.

"All I know is that you ran in here with that there rope, yelling something about a pony and startled a man wearing the most obnoxious outfit in the room and his lady friend," Feliks stated, "Who, by the way, is most certainly trying to get attention by failing miserably in comparison to how fabulous I am."

"Hey!" Alfred demanded, causing everyone listening to laugh and go back to their partying. Even Magnus had to let a small smile melt onto his face and rolled his eyes.

"Really, Feliks," Magnus sighed, "Come now and help me get this horse out."

"How do you even know it's mine?" Feliks demanded, following him back through the door, winking at Alfred as they passed.

"Because it's wearing a blanket that matches your suit with a big silver F embroidered into it," Magnus stated, "And I've seen you ride that damn thing enough times."

"Who the hell does that guy think he is?" Alfred huffed, turning back to face Elizabeta.

"Feliks Łukasiewicz," she answered with a laugh, "Him and Magnus have been friends since he came to England. Some people say those two are lovers, but I don't believe it."

"What? Why not?" Alfred asked.

"Because if I believed every rumour about everyone I've ever heard about Poland," Elizabeta replied, smiling, "Then I'd have to say he's got more lovers than I do suitors and how do you think that makes me look? Besides, have you seen the way he acts around Toris Laurinaitis? Those two are clearly meant for one another."

"Who?" Alfred asked.

"Nevermind," she waved him away, "How about some drinks?"

* * *

"Come on, you," Alfred dragged Elizabeta up the stairs, passing by some other drunk couples swapping spit as they went. She cooed nonsense at him and he just laughed, allowing her to remain draped over him. A flight of stairs and several locked doors later, he found a guest bedroom and led her inside, closing the door behind them and all but carrying her to the bed and dropping her into it. He pried the empty wine glass from her hands before removing her shoes and pulling the blankets over her, pulling a few stands of her hair that fell in her face out of the way.

"Yourenotgonnatrynothing," her words slurred together as she buried her face in a pillow.

"Not this time," Alfred replied, patting her head before taking a step back.

"Whatifsomeonecomesin?" Elizabeta asked.

Alfred looked around the room before his eyes landed on a desk across the room, "There's a candlestick over there. You can hit them with that."

"Bringithere." He rolled his eyes and brought it to her, plucking the used candle out and tossing it across the room as he did. He handed it to her and she pulled it to her body and fell asleep. He turned and left her there, fairly certain she could handle her own if anyone did happen upon her and closed the door as he went. With no more guests to distract him, he was certain to set out on his mission.

"Excuse me!" Alfred called down the hall at a man, wearing a dark red suit that was much less noticeable than his, walking in the opposite direction. He turned to face Alfred with a snobbish look.

"Yeah, what?" he asked.

"Hi," Alfred caught up with him, sticking out his hand, "Alfred Jones."

"Philip," the man answers, ignoring his extended hand. Alfred retracts it and decided to just ask his question.

"I was wondering if you might be able to direct me to our host?" Alfred explained, "I was hoping to get a moment with him."

"What would he want with you?" Philip questioned.

Alfred's smile faltered at the comment and he replied, much more cooly, "Please just tell me."

"I hear they were running short on alcohol," Philip stated, "If he'll grant you any time, you'll find him in the cellar."

"Thank you," Alfred said, through gritted teeth. He turned on his heel and headed down the stairs, taking a route through the kitchen to avoid the crowd. The cellar door happened to be open and he descended the stairs by the dim lanterns on the way.

"Uh. Mister Densen?" he called, walking through the labyrinth of things and looking all around him. The room was eerily quiet and he was just about to head back up the stairs when he rounded the corner of a particular set of boxes and nearly tripped over something.

He looked down to see a figure laying there, eyes wide and blank and his mouth hanging open. The light danced across his pale face and Alfred felt his stomach drop. He turned on his heel, bolting out of the cellar. A scream followed after him and it took him a moment to realise it was his own. His mind told him he needed help and so he ran into the front hall, bursting through the doors and yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Murder! It's Magnus! He's laying dead in the cellar!" Alfred cried, startling several people and leaving even more confused at his sudden outburst, "Quick! Send help! He's dead! There has been a murder!"

"Alfred!" Arthur appeared at his side, taking his arm, "Calm down."

"Arthur! You've gotta-" Alfred breathed, cut off when Francis also appeared and slapped his hand over the American's mouth, silencing him.

"Breath," Arthur commanded, sternly. Alfred took a couple quick breaths, "No. Slower." Alfred complied, taking a few deep breaths through his nose until his heart beat slowed a bit.

"What exactly happened?" Francis questioned, removing his hand. A group of people began to hover around as Alfred relaid the incident, ending with his heart racing, again and him being on the edge of hysterics.

"Dear lord," Arthur looked around, "Has anyone seen his brother?"

"I'm here," a quiet voice said beside him and he glanced over to see Matthew, who was tugging Alfred back towards the door to get him to sit down, "I'll deal with him."

"Thank you, Matthew," Arthur nodded, "Someone please alert the police. Francis. You and I will go and inspect the cellar to make sure he wasn't just fibbing."

"Why do I have to go?" Francis demanded.

"Because I said so," Arthur snapped, "Now, hurry up!"

* * *

Most guests left as soon as the police gave them leave. The manor was a large one with plenty of rooms for overnight visitors, so a few people decided to stay or were held for longer periods of time.

Matthew had dragged Alfred off to the living room where they were mostly alone except for a couple of woman gossiping in the corner. He sat his brother on one of the couches and knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his knee.

"Are you going to alright, Alfred?" Matthew inquired, worried.

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't know," Alfred choked out. His stomach was churning and he began to feel nauseas, "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"For someone always going on about being the hero, you've always been rather uneasy about the sick or dead," Matthew chuckled.

"Of course I am," Alfred glared, "Why do you think I want to eliminate such things with my heroic actions?"

"Because you resemble a five year old?" Matthew chuckled.

"Haha. Hilarious," Alfred grumbled, "Jesus, I think I'm gonna be sick, myself."

"Why don't you lie down?" Matthew offered.

"Here?" Alfred eyed him.

"Sure," Matthew nodded, "I don't see why not."

"There are girls over there, Matthew," Alfred muttered, nodding towards the gossipers, "I can't sleep with them around."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a couple of women," Matthew chuckled.

"Of course not!" Alfred snapped, "It just... Doesn't look good for my reputation."

"Is this because you're a cuddler?" Matthew teased, "Afraid they'll find out your wittle secret and tell everyone?"

"I am not a cuddler!" Alfred argued.

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"This is stupid," Alfred grumbled, "I'm not sleeping in here and that's final."

"Fine, you baby," Matthew helped him to his feet, "Come on. There are some bedrooms upstairs. I'll help you find one."

"I can do it myself," Alfred stated, but allowed his brother to drag him away, none-the-less.

"I'm sure you can," Matthew rolled his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alfred!" Someone was shaking him awake and he began to groggily come from his dreams, "Alfred! Jeez, you are a deep sleeper. Come on!"

"Wha...?" He blinked his eyes open, his vision coming into focus. Elizabeta stood over him, grinning, and he squeaked and pulled the blankets to his chin, "Miss Héderváry! What are you doing in my room?"

"Oh my goodness," she chuckled, "You're a little girl, you know that?"

"What do you want, if I may inquire?" Alfred narrowed his eyes.

"It's about the fortune," Elizabeta explained, "It seems he left all his inheritance to be dealt with by his brother - Lukas?"

"Okay? And?" Alfred rubbed his eyes.

"And," Elizabeta concluded, "He's called anyone interested to come to the cellar for a séance. He says he's gonna call upon Magnus to see what to do with the money."

"You don't believe that, do you?" Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Not in the slightest," Elizabeta agreed, "But it wouldn't hurt to get into his favour, yeah?"

"I think I see where you're going with this," Alfred grinned, "Let me go find my brother and I'll meet you there."

* * *

"I really don't want to go, Alfred," Matthew muttered, tapping his fingers together, "You know how much I dislike this sort of thing. It gives me the chills."

"For the last time, Mattie," Alfred said, "It's just a bunch of cheap tricks and candle flickers. Nothing to worry about. It's for a good cause, anyways."

"What cause?" Matthew wondered.

"My wallet." They reached the cellar doors and Alfred hesitated, remembering the scene from yesterday.

"Scared, are we?" a voice behind them asked, making both boys turn around, startled. Arthur stood, a smirk across his face and his arms crossed.

"No!" Alfred answered, quickly.

"A little," Matthew mumbled, too quiet to be heard.

"You should be," Arthur came up, resting his arms on either of their shoulders, "Have you boys ever been to a séance before?"

"Nope," Alfred shook his head, "It's a bunch of baloney."

"Alfred doesn't believe in this supernatural stuff," Matthew explained.

"Really?" Arthur turned to him, "Well, he should."

"What? Why?" Matthew asked.

"Because it's all real," Arthur explained, "In my youth, I used to dabble in it. Dark stuff. I nearly died trying to summon a demon once."

"You did?" Matthew's eyes widened into saucers.

"He's lying, Mattie," Alfred warned.

"I swear it on my life," Arthur insisted, "I was sitting in a cellar much like this one. Things started flying around the room and something hit me in the back of the head. I was in a coma for nearly three days. It's just fortunate that I didn't die."

"You probably did and the doctors revived you," Alfred pushed him away, angrily, "That would explain the brain damage. You're scaring him, you dick."

"My apologies," Arthur brushed down his shirt, smugly, "Perhaps you should take him somewhere else during the séance and leave the fortune to someone who actually deserves it."

"Come on, Mattie," Alfred took his brother's wrist, glaring daggers at Arthur and then descending the stairs.

"What if he's right, Alfred," Matthew whimpered, shaking, "Maybe this isn't safe."

"I've already told you, Matthew," Alfred gritted his teeth, "It's just cheap tricks and flickering candles. Don't be such a baby." They weaved through the cellar until they came upon the place where Alfred had found the body the day before. Magnus had already been moved, but an array of cushions were set in a circle, some occupied, others not. Elizabeta waved him over and he happily crossed the room, sitting beside her.

"Glad you could make it," she smiled, "This must be your brother... Is he okay?" He turned to look at the man beside him, who was looking around in paranoia, his eyes wide and terrified.

"He's just a little shaken up because Arthur was trying to get us to back out," Alfred slapped a hand on his back, making Matthew jump and squeek in fright, "But we're alright. Right, Mattie?"

"Uh... Yeah. Sure," Matthew placed a hand on his chest, willing his racing heart to slow down.

"So, how's the competition looking?" Alfred leaned forward to whisper with her.

"Not good," Elizabeta replied, "We've already got quite a few people here and more are coming. Ivan is here, which is terrifying. And then General Ludwig brought Kiku and the Italian brothers."

"Damn," Alfred muttered, "I was hoping Kiku wouldn't be involved."

"You know him?" Elizabeta inquired.

"We're old friends," Alfred answered, "I don't mind competing with him so much as I don't want him working with Ludwig the ass and the mafia bros."

"Hehe. I could see why that might be a problem," she understood, "But they're also our biggest threat."

"Arthur came in behind us," Alfred noted, "And Francis certainly won't pass up a chance like this. I hear Yao had a rivalry with Magnus, so he will probably join in, too."

"And Feliks will be late, as always, but he'll definitely show," Elizabeta added, "But other than that, I think we're going to be-"

"It's alright everyone!" a loud voice called into the cellar as they came into view, "I brought enough awesome for all of us! You can thank me later."

"Oh no," Elizabeta pulled Alfred to hide her, "What is he doing here?"

"What is who doing where?" Alfred looked over to the man who had arrived and was busy trying to talk up Lukas, who mostly ignored him. Gilbert flashed a grin in Alfred's direction that promised bloodshed and he quickly averted his eyes, "Oh. Him."

"Yeah," she grumbled, "Ignoring him, I was going to propose something to you, Alfred."

"What?" He wondered.

"Well," she explained, "I have reason to believe that there's going to be a competition of sorts to determine who will get the money. I was thinking maybe, if one of us wins, we could split it between the two of us, but that way we can help each other out. Matthew can join us too, if he would like."

"Sounds great!" Alfred beamed, "What do you say, Mattie? You in?"

"Um... I suppose," Matthew agreed.

"Thata boy," Alfred approved. He stuck his hand out to her and she took it, shaking it, "It's a deal, Miss Elizabeta."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Alfred," she replied. He winked and they both were forced to stifle their laughter from the ridiculous action.

"What are you love birds giggling about?" Feliks plopped down on the cushion beside Matthew, startling him, "Oh. Did I scare you? Whoops. I don't believe we've met. Feliks is the name. Feliks Łukasiewicz."

"M-matthew," he replied, "Matthew Williams."

"Nice to meet you, Matthew," Feliks leaned towards him, grinning devilishly.

"Hi," Alfred tugged Matthew away from him, glaring, "Alfred Jones. Matthew is my brother."

"Oh, I know you," Feliks smirked, "The one with the red outfit the other night. I picked on you a bit, but I must say I can respect a man who isn't afraid to wear what he wants."

"Really?" Alfred blinked, surprised by the sudden compliment.

"Oh, yes," Feliks confirmed, "I rather liked the-"

"Feliks!" Lukas snapped from across the circle. Everyone was beginning to settle down and all eyes turned to them at the shout, "Leave the Americans alone."

"Actually, I'm not-" Matthew began, but he was cut off.

"Aw, come on, Lukas," Feliks pouted, "I just was having a little fun."

"We're about to start anyways," Lukas huffed, "Take your seats." Some grumbling and a few purposeful shoves later, they were ready. Taking a wine glass, he placed it in the center of the circle and pulled a few candles out of a box he had beside him and placed them in around it. He then produced a wine bottle, handing it over to Feliks.

"For me?" he accepted the bottle, "Oh, you shouldn't have, Lukas... I have no idea how to repay you-"

"Oh, shut up," Lukas scowled, cutting his dramatics short, "The wine isn't for you, it's for my brother. In order to perform the scéance, we need to offer his spirit something. He would have prefered something a little more to his tastes, I'm sure, but he'll have to deal with this as he drank everything else last night. If you can manage, how about putting the wine in the cup."

"You really don't like me," Feliks pouted, removing the cap and pouring the alcohol into the glass."

"You're right," Lukas agreed, taking the bottle back there after, "I don't. Now, as much as I despise this, we'll need to hold hands for this next part." Everyone linked hands with the persons beside them as Lukas lit the candles he'd assembled. Arthur and Francis squabbled about sweaty hands and the Italian brother's peered around Ludwig in fear at the Russian man who smiled sweetly beside him. Alfred juggled between glaring daggers at Feliks' advances and a silent competition of awesome with Gilbert, who sat on Lukas' far side. Once he took both Gilbert's and Feliks' hands, a look of disgust on his face, the side conversations settled down and everyone waited in anticipation for the one thing that brought them all together.

Who would be getting the fortune.

"No one else must ask any questions of Magnus' spirit," he explained, "He was an idiot in life and we can't expect him to be any different, now. He'll be easily confused and if any of you speak, you'll probably just fuck this up. For all our sakes, keep your mouths closed."

Seeing nothing but a few irritated eyes in response to his instructions, he began to yell into the empty cellar, speaking in a language none of them knew.

"_Magnus du røv. Hele denne spil er dumt..._"

"What're you saying?" Arthur demanded, not recognising the language.

"I'm using an ancient language from before any of our time," Lukas growled in answer, "Now, I told you to shut up." Arthur huffed, but obeyed.

"_Hvis du ikke møder op om fem sekunder vil jeg fortælle alle om den raserianfa-_" Lukas was cut short by a loud knocking on one of the walls. All heads shot towards it and Alfred could feel Matthew's grip tighten. Elizabeta, on the other hand, was fascinated.

"He's here," Lukas explained, the candle lights flickering over his face in an eerie manner, "If you have any questions, now would be the time to present them. I will translate and he will answer."

"What was he doing in the cellar?" Ludwig was the first to speak up. He didn't quite believe this whole charade, yet, but he was convinced enough to play along - For now.

"I know that one!" Alfred spoke up, "They ran out of drinks upstairs. He was getting more."

"Who told you that?" Ludwig inquired, earning a smug look from the American.

"Some ass named Philip," Alfred replied, "Told me Magnus was down here getting drinks when I asked. I came down here to speak with him and that's when..."

"When you found the body," Matthew concluded.

"Exactly," Alfred confirmed.

"But how do we know you didn't kill him?" Yao interjected, "You are obviously only after his money - You probably killed him just to have a chance at his fortune. American scum like you are not above it."

"Like you're one to talk," Alfred scoffed, "Kiku told me all about your competition with him and how you were eying those trophies last night. You probably took one and did him in out of jealousy!"

"You also mentioned the trophies to me, Yao," Arthur said from beside him, "You were incredibly angry when I asked you about your soccer competitions this year."

"I would never!" Yao gasped in indignanty, "How dare you accuse me of such a thing!"

"I agree," Kiku nodded, "While Yao is very nosey, he does not murder."

"So if it wasn't you, maybe it was the mafia bro," Alfred chimed in, "I wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw em..."

"Pfft. Our American friend is sure quick to jump to conclusions," one of the Italians, whose name was Lovino, pointed out, "And you and your brother scampered off somewhere right after the incident - Perhaps to hide evidence?"

"Mattie wouldn't hurt a fly!" Alfred shouted, starting to pull out of the circle to teach the snide Italian a lesson, but said brother and Elizabeta held him back.

"A quiet act would be the ideal cover for a murderer..." Ludwig noted.

"It wasn't him!"

"If you are all done playing the blame game," Lukas broke in, impatiently, "We could just ask Magnus."

"Yeah!" Alfred agreed, "Go ahead! Ask him!"

"I was planning on it," Lukas grumbled, "Unfortunately, we are only capable of asking certain types of questions. I will asking him a yes or no question and he will respond with one knock for yes. One for no. No answer will indicate he does not know or cannot answer. Are we clear?" Everyone nodded.

"To begin, we will ask him if the murderer is on the property still," Lukas continued, "_Magnus! Er du et røv? To slag betyde ja. Et slag betyde nej._" Two knocks sounded after a minute, putting everyone on the edge of their seat.

"Ask him if they are in this room!" Arthur prompted.

"_Kan jeg selv bede om, at? To slag betyde ja. Et slag betyde nej,_" Lukas translated.

There was silence.


End file.
